


The Cylon of the Opera

by NEStar



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, canon swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NEStar/pseuds/NEStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara Thrace was so alone after her father died, but then one night a voice sang to her.</p><p>BSG canon swap with the Phantom story line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The Arrival of Erik Leoben

Leoban looked up at the front of the Hellica Opera House. A group of Dryads carved in stone were scattered between the row of main doors, while above the entrance groups of gilded cherubs floated blissfully.

As the building rose the artistry continued, coming to the grand finale at the top of the roof The Statue of Apollo.

Rumors said that it had come from Kobal and during the colonization the arrow, that was now displayed in Delphi, had broken off as a sign of the god's displeasure at being moved.

Leoban had no use for rumors. Still, the sunlight shining off of the gold gilding made it seem as if the god was about to step off the roof and take flight into the sky. He shook his head to clear it of these odd thoughts and walked towards the back of the grand building.

The stage door was decidedly less glamorous, but beyond it lay access to one of the most sophisticated broadcasting networks in the twelve colonies.

“Can I help you?” the security guard asked.

“My name is Erik Leoban,” he responded with a toothy smile, “I'm the new stagehand.”

\--------------------------------------------------

The Death of Margaret Thrace

Dreilide Thrace had heard what the doctor said as the old man left the room, but he didn't comprehend it. There in the bed was his wife, as beautiful as the first time he saw her. 

He had filled in for the rehearsal pianist at the opera house one afternoon and during a break he had looked up to see her. She had been wearing a green leotard and a well-mended calf length tutu, her hair pulled back tightly from her face, but a slight smile gracing her lips as she went over a sequence of steps with some of the other girls.

Then she glanced up and caught his gaze and her smile widened. In that second he had fallen in love.

As if sensing his thoughts Meg looked up him and smiled, but the smile quickly vanished as a coughing fit over took her. Dreilide rushed over to the side of the bed and scooped up their daughter, Kara, from off of Meg's lap.

“No,” Meg managed to gasp before reaching for the glass of water that sat on the nightstand. She took a few sips and then continued, “We haven't finished our prayers.”

He leaned forward and Kara wiggled out of his arms. The young girl quickly settled herself next to her mother and carefully folded her hands and bowed her head.

“Lords of Kobal” Meg began and Kara softly followed along. “Hear our prayers. Guard us while we sleep...” Kara's voice suddenly broke away, “and make momma better.”

 _“I'm so sorry, but there's nothing more I can do”_ The doctor's words rang in Dreilide's head, _“She's dying.”_

Lifting his eyes to his wife's face, Dreilide watched as she took one rattling breath after another; the silence lengthening between each breath until...

Sitting down on the bed next to Kara he took her hands in his own, “Lords of Kobal, hear our prayer. Accept into your arms the soul of your daughter, Meg.” Drawing the girl into his own arms he added, “And watch over the daughter she left behind.”

\--------------------------------------------------

The Claiming of a Room

It had taken two months for him to even find this place. The Opera House was massive, with even more space below the ground then above it. The basement was full of trapdoors and elevators for moving set pieces and people on to and off of the stage. It also stored the sets, props and costumes needed for the current season.

The first sub-basement was filled with the small workshops. Spaces for the prop makers, costumers, cobblers, and wig makers to spread out their goods and create false glamor. 

The second and third sub-basements were home to the large workshop; a place full of sawdust and sweat, with one space arching high enough to fully assemble a backdrop for the soring stage.

The fourth sub-basement was the stable. Yes, the Opera had it's own menagerie of animals that had trained for stage work. Mostly horses, but there were also a large number of dogs, a few donkeys, some birds, three cats and even one goat.

But it was the fifth sub-basement that housed the most magnificent wonder of them all – a lake.

It hadn't been part of the original plan, but when water sprang from the depths there was nothing the builders could do to put it back so they simply contained it.

It was there, on the far side of the lake – where rubbish from the building site had piled high – he found the room. It was cold and damp but that was nothing a little technology couldn't take care of.

\--------------------------------------------------

“Hey Erik, you wanna grab a drink tonight?” one of the hands called out over the din of the locker room.

“Wish I could,” Leoben lied smoothly, “But I managed to pick up a little extra work.”

“Maybe next time!”

“Yeah, see ya!” He waved to the group of men, then quickly jogged to the corner and turned onto the Copyist's Street which ran behind the Opera House. After walking several yards, he hopped over the low fence and slipped into one of the arches that sunk down below street level. Pulling a key from inside his shirt, Leoben unlocked the grating and slipped back into the Opera House.

Taking a flashlight from a small shelf he had placed just inside the shadows, Leoben made his way through the long forgotten tunnel. After walking for ten minutes he came out in a corner of a storage room in the large workshop. He listened at the door for a moment, then slipped out into the main work floor. Walking carefully to avoid making noise in the echoing space, he made his way to the office of the Head Carpenter's Assistant. Inside the office he pushed up on a sconce and a section of the wall swung in; this winding tunnel took him down to the lake, where he had a small punt waiting. Just a quick boat ride later he was “Home”.

Thankfully the floor was still level. With the addition thick walls to keep out the damp, several hundred feet of cable and the most sophisticated computer he could build with human-made parts, Leoben had made the perfect center for monitoring every Cylon operative in the Twelve Colonies.


	2. Act One, scene one

Boy Meets Girl

Lee shifted, trying to find a slightly more comfortable spot on the large boulder he was sitting on. Spread out in front of him the sea was a gray-green, rumpled with small waves and splashed with the odd cap of foam, which melted into the overcast slate blue sky.

It was a perfect match for his mood, rumpled and foaming against the monotonous slate blue uniforms of the Fleet conference his father was attending.

He hadn't wanted to come, but his father had insisted – reminded Lee that it would be a wonderful opportunity to see how the Fleet really worked and it would give him an edge when he started the Academy in the fall.

The Fleet Academy – there was another thing that made his mood rumpled and gray, but it was an argument he had lost...

A gust of wind came rushing down the shoreline, causing Lee to shiver and a flash of scarlet to fly past.

“Oh gods, no!”

The cry came from the beach below him. From a girl who was chasing after – Oh, it was a scarf!

And it had just landed in the water.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Lee jumped down from the rock and ran straight into sea.

It took him a minute to catch the scarf, by which time both he and the scarf were soaked. But the girl didn't care, just threw her hands on to his shoulders and pushed herself up to place a quick kiss that landed half on his check and half on the corner of his mouth.

By the time he was able to gather his thoughts the girl was gone.

\--------------------------------------------------

He father suspected something, she was sure of it.

Or maybe this was always how he read his paper in the morning.

Why did she kiss that boy? A simple thank you would have sufficed or even a hand shake.

Maybe a quick hug, to show that she truly knew what he had done in the rescue of her scarf – after all, he did get very wet.

But a kiss? That was just too much!

Across the table the corner of her father's paper dipped, drooping down to brush the smooth wood as Papa took a sip of coffee.

What had she been thinking then? And why couldn't she stop thinking about the way his cheek dimpled when it met his mouth and, gods, how could she have been so clumsy as to actually kiss part of his lips!

“Are you ready, moppet?” her father's question startled her out of her thoughts. “Ready?” she echoed.

“For our walk?” he gave her a wide smile, “It shouldn't be as windy as it was yesterday.”

Yesterday, when the wind grabbed her scarf and sent her running down the shore and into that boy.

“If it's all right, I'm going to skip the walk this morning.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Kara heard the door swing shut and immediately started to panic. He knew! He must have seen her and he was teasing her. Oh gods, to kiss a boy – and she didn't even know his name!

And even if he father didn't know, Artemis surely would. Kara had been a Daughter of Okeanos and Artemis always watched after her handmaidens, even as they got older.

That was it! Why she was feeling so guilty! It wasn't her _father_ who knew, but the virgin goddess!

As she opened the small drawer of her bed side table Kara fell to her knees. Inside, wrapped in a length of soft flannel was the small statue of Artemis she had been given on her first day in the Pantheon chorus. Placing it gently on the table Kara began to pray, “Pardon, goddess of the night, the misdeed done by thy virgin knight.”

“Kara,” her father knocking softly at her opened door startled her from her prayers.

“There's someone I want you to meet.” 

She stood up with a pang in her knees; how long had she been praying?

“I met him on my walk this morning,” her father said as they walked towards the main room of the cottage, “And I think you two might become friends.”

She stopped suddenly, shocked to see _him_ standing in her cottage.

“This is Lee.”

Maybe she hadn't prayed enough.

\--------------------------------------------------

After that she couldn't get Lee to leave her side (and maybe part of her didn't want him to). In the mornings he would show up at her door, pulling her outside and down to the beach. In the afternoons they would explore the woods behind her cottage, a kind of casual hide and seek breaking out from time to time. In the evenings, or on days when the rains washed down from the sky, they would spread out in the attic of the cottage, telling each other stories or listening to her father play the piano.

It was perfect – perfect and over.

“I won't be able to write you for a few months. That's one of the rules – which is total bullshit. They say it's part of the boot camp we have to go through at the beginning, a way to make us bond together.” 

Lee was rambling about the Academy again, the place which had become his personal version of Hades.

“It's okay, Lee,” she said softly. “Besides, I'll be busy helping my papa get ready for the new season.”

“Oh...” Lee's face fell, “Yeah, of course you'll have other things to think about. New places to see and people to meet.” He gave her a forced smile that made her want to cry, “In a few months you probably won't even remember me.”

It was that sad smile and the memory of his much brighter one the first day they had met that prompted her to put a hand on his shoulder, lean forward, and gently press her lips against his.

“I could never forget you, Lee.”


	3. Act One, scene two

The Death of Dreilide

“Kara, he's asking for you.”

Silently, she slipped into her father's room. The room that until a few weeks ago had been filled with the sunlight and the warmth of her father's smile but was now filled with the smell of cleaning alcohol and the sound of monitors. 

“My sweet girl,” her father lifted up a hand to her and as she held it she could feel it shake from the effort. 

“There is so much I wanted to teach you, so much I needed to tell you about life.”

“It's alright, papa,” she said with a weak smile, “You'll get better and then we'll have all the time we need.”

“Don't lie, Kara,” her father said with a soft laugh, “You aren't very good at it.”

“But you got better before,” she replied, thinking back to the days right after they returned to Gemenon and the Illumini Pantheon. He father had joined the Pantheon's orchestra in rehearsals for the upcoming season while she had filled the hours after school with service in the temple of Artemis. They had been so happy. Then suddenly all of the good that had been gained at the seaside, all of the health and vigor, had been stripped away in a matter of weeks leaving her father a pale gray copy of himself.

“Open the box, Kara,” her father said and a thrill went down her back. There was only one box he could be talking about – her mother's box.

Crossing to the bookcase, Kara paused for a second with her hand on the lid, just touching the wood that her mother had so often touched. Inside the small chest were all of her mothers most beloved belongings.

“At the bottom, wrapped in a red silk cloth,” her father instructed.

Kara lifted up the bundle and walked back over to the bed. She unwrapped it to discover an idol the same size as her own but that's were the similarities ended. Even to her sheltered eyes Kara knew that this goddess was a woman, with a look on her face that Kara didn't recognize but still made her want to blush.

“Your mother raised you to worship Artemis, but it was always her intention to introduce you to Aphrodite when you were older.”

Aphrodite, the goddess of love. _”And desire.”_ whispered a part of her mind.

“You may not be fully old enough just yet,” her father said, “But keep her close and one day she'll bring love to you.”

Kara ran a finger over the parted lips of the idol. 

“Or maybe I should say bring it back to you?”

She quickly replied, “It wasn't like that, papa.”

“But it would have been nice if it was.” her father said softly, “Lee was a good boy.”

From behind the bed one of the monitors started to beep loudly, causing the nurse who had been resting in the hall to come rushing in.

“What's wrong?” Kara asked as a large lump formed in her chest.

“I wanted – to teach you – music, ” her father said in three gasping breaths.

“What's wrong?” she asked again but her question was lost as a second nurse and a priest came rushing into the room.

“Kara,” her father managed to grab a hold of her hand. “When I get to heaven – ” The hand he was holding was the one containing the statue of Aphrodite and the edge of the goddess's girdle dug into the palm of her hand. 

“When I get to heaven – ”

“Yes, papa?” the lump was in her throat now.

“I'll send you down an angel of music,” his hand fell away, dropping on to the bed. “Listen for the angel, Kara.”

The monitors let out a loud screeching wail.

“Papa?”

“He is gone, child,” the priest said gently.


End file.
